


“Something for the weekend, Sir?”

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Banter, Deuce of Hearts, Fade, Flow, Fluff, M/M, NSFW, Nivanfield, One Shot, Shaving, Smut, Stress, Strong Language, Teamwork, a certain virus, fears and secrets, haircut, lockdown - Freeform, mild bondage, nivanfield banter, points - Freeform, quiff, texture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: Piers reveals one of his deepest secrets causing Chris to reveal one of his darkest fears. Under the stress of an ongoing lockdown situation, how will they cope? Fluff and smut, strong language.
Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield
Kudos: 14





	“Something for the weekend, Sir?”

**Author's Note:**

> “Something for the weekend,Sir?” is a particularly British expression. A delicate enquiry a Barber would make of his customer as to whether he wanted to purchase a condom. Apart from Pharmacists, Barbers’ shops were one of the few places you could purchase prophylactics in the 50’s and 60’s, when many pharmacies were closed at the weekend.

It was 7:30 am in the _Deuce of Hearts_. Another long lockdown weekend stretched before them as they both looked into the steamed-up wet room mirror.

Chris Redfield still hadn’t fully woken up yet. He was idly wondering if it was really worth the bother of him shaving. He knew full well his beard would return by teatime whatever he did now.

Piers Nivans, however, was wide awake. And he was having a major personal crisis.

“Argh! I can’t stand it any longer! I’ve had it with this!” Piers’ long fingers ran through his limp, lifeless, hair.

“It wasn’t me! And I refute any suggestion it may have been. What did I do?” asked a sleepy Chris.

“Huh?”

“What did I do wrong now?”

“Nothing Babe. You haven’t done any …”

“But you just said. You couldn’t stand it and you’d had it!”

“I know I did.”

“Well, I naturally assumed you were talking about me.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, for your information, I wasn’t talking about you this time.”

“Oh. You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“So, I’m in the clear?”

“Yes. I was talking about my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Yes.”

"Um, but your hair looks lovely. Sorta’ bouncy and fluffy …” Chris hoped a compliment might keep him in an angry pup’s good books.

“Gah! Don’t try and make it easy for me Chris. It’s lanky and greasy!”

“It is?”

“It is. I thought I’d grow it out, you know, during this lockdown. Well, I have and now I can’t bear it!”

“Was that a joke?”

“What?”

“The 'bear’ thing.”

“No.”

“Oh, good. You seem a bit, er …”

“A bit what?”

“Um, a bit less calm and collected than usual?”

“It’s because of my hair!”

“Ok, I think even I have established that. So let’s do something about it, now, before it does become my fault.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’ll cut it for you, this morning.”

“You’ll cut my hair?”

“Er, yes. Under your strict supervision, of course.”

“It’s the only kind of supervision I have.” Piers said coldly.

“Phew, I’m glad you said that.” Chris’ relief got the better of his mouth.

“I’m sorry?” An eyebrow arched accusingly.

“Nothing. Ok, how would you like to proceed?”

“Meticulously.”

“I can do that.”

“No, Chris. You WILL do that. We’ll finish up here first. Then I’ll collect my grooming gear, whilst you set up a mirror and a chair in the utility room. There’s more light in there. Plus I don’t want hair messing up the wet-room or anywhere else. We cleaned through yesterday.”

“Roger that. What about the Ruffster?”

“No, you’re not cutting his hair as well …”

“Er …”

“That _was_ a joke Chris!”

“Oh, yeah. Ha, ha!”

“He can go run in the yard. I won’t be long.”

Piers came down from upstairs with his haircare bag and a hand mirror. Chris looked over from setting-up the utility room.

“Oh! You’re shirtless. Nice show!”

“I hate the cut hair getting under my collar. It itches, and it drives me mad.”

“Well, we sure don’t want the BSAA’s Ace Director getting all hot and hairy under the collar. That’s my department.”

“It’s a sniper thing Chris. When you’ve commenced an engagement sequence, you have to minimize any and all irritations. It’s 100% concentration. You can’t have a scratch or sneeze in the middle of a slot.”

“That’s some of the good things about fighting Zombies I suppose. If they have a scratch, their hands fall off. And if they sneeze, their heads fall off. Ha!”

“I can’t say I’d noticed.”

“Well, they do. When you’re up close and personal. Like this … Mwah-ha-ha!” Chris scratched the back of Piers’ neck.

“Are you going to cut my hair, or spend the morning doing Zombie impersonations?”

“Um …”

“Please concentrate Chris. You know how important my hair is to me.”

“And they thought I was vain!” Chris muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” A full-on eye roll.

“Er, I said I’ll do the same. Take my shirt off, like you, to keep you company.”

Piers caste an appreciative glance in Chris’ direction as he undressed. “Mmm, I notice you’re getting furry again. Have you stopped depilating your body hair during lockdown?”

“Possibly, if I knew what that meant. But I have stopped shaving it. There’s no real need to any more. It’s not like I’m wearing those goddamn tight combat shirts these days. Even at work, after you said we had to wear shirt and tie. Figured I might as well keep it, less maintenance.”

“I’d like that. I like my Bear suitably hirsute.”

“Do you want my jogging pants off too?”

“Hmm, alright, since it’s you. Then I can check out your hairy legs.”

“Ha! Oh, I leaned the big mirror up against the window, and put the chair in front. Is that good?”

“That’s perfect.” Piers sat upright in the straight-back chair.

“Ok, so what’s first Sir? A little something off the top?”

“First of all some fundamentals. My basic style is what’s called a quiff, but with a high fade.” Piers explained.

“A what now?” Chris still looked confused.

“It puts the emphasis on texture and flow on top …”

“You mean messy?”

“No, I mean textured! To continue. The sides are layered. Strictly speaking, they should also be faded, but that would take a skilled professional.”

“Well you’ll have to make do with an amateur for now. Layered?”

“Graded, getting shorter as you go lower.”

“Um, sorta stripey?”

“No, layered like layers. And the quiff, of course, is swept upwards. But not back. Never back. That would be too retro.”

“Oh, yes, of course. We don’t want retro. Er, what does all that mean in English Ace?”

“It means Piers Nivans.”

“Ok.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“It sounds complicated. Why can’t you just run the clippers over it like I do? Only takes five minutes.”

“Because you’re Chris Redfield and I’m …”

“… Piers Nivans, yes, we’ve determined that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk you through it as we go.”

“Alright.” Chris put a towel around Piers shoulders. “Are we sitting comfortably Sir? Then I’ll begin.” Chris picked up the electric clippers. **B,buzzz!**

“No! Stop! You have to brush it first.”

“Brush?”

“Yes, brush all the hair forward. That establishes the flow.”

“Uh-huh, the flowww.” Chris sighed as he put down the clippers and picked up the hairbrush. **Brush, brush.** “Flow established. How’s that?”

Piers checked himself in the mirror. “Hmm, alright. Now, see this long bit at the front, like a peak … ?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Chris went to touch it.

“Do NOT touch it, at all, EVER. Do you understand me?”

“Sheesh! Sir, yes Sir!”

“Good! I just wanted to make that absolutely clear.

"You succeeded.”

“Now, put the No.4 guard on the trimer.”

“This one?”

“Let me see, yes. Now, I want you to imagine a line joining the front of my sideburns, going up and across my forehead, from one side to the other … here.” Piers indicated. “You got that? ”

“Loud and clear.”

“Do NOT cut ANYTHING beyond that. Leave it alone.”

“Understood.”

“Now, I want you to imagine a horizontal line going round the crown of my head, about two and a half inches above the tops of my ears.”

“Like a lid?”

“If that’s what it takes Chris, yes, like a lid.” It was Piers’ turn to sigh. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore. “Now, trim everything below that line with the No.4. Remember, DO NOT go over the top, and NEVER touch the front.”

“Gotcha! Now where’s the switch again? Ah …” **Brrr.** “… Here goes nothin!”

“Christopher!”

“Sorry.” **Buzzz, buzz.** “Ok, that’s the sides done. Back too?”

“Yes please.”

Chris moved past him, brushing against his elbow. Piers felt something in Chris’s shorts. Something not hard exactly, but definitely not soft. Something semi-rigid. Surreptitiously, Piers edged both his elbows out a little more. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he reasoned. He might as well get some enjoyment from the doubtful experience that now lay ahead.

 **Buzz, buzz.** “Right, now what?”

“Now put on the No.3 guard. Let me check.”

Chris lent over and Piers smirked in satisfaction. Chris definitely had a semi hard-on.

“There, don’t you trust me?”

“These are big numbers Bear, I don’t want you getting confused.”

“Very funny. Less of the sarcasm, Nivans. You’re making me nervous. My hands might shake.”

“Ok, Ok! Now with the N0.3, trim below a line that goes around level with the tops of my ears.”

“But I’ve already trimmed there.”

“I know, but this is how you get the layers, first 4, then 3, next 2 …”

“I see. Gee, it’s complicated!”

“But I’m worth it! Right?”

“Hmm, possibly.” **Buzz, buzzz.** “Ok, that’s done. Now what?”

“Let me see in the mirror first … Oh, very good!”

“You needn’t sound so surprised. I used to cut Claire’s hair you know, when she was little.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, her head fitted inside the pudding basin. Ha, ha, ha!”

“OMG!”

“Mmm, that’s exactly what she used to say. What’s next?”

“Fit the No.2 guard, and trim below a line level with the middle of my ears.”

“Ooh … kay. I’m getting the hang of this now.” **Buzz, buzz, buzz.** “There, how’s that?”

“Great. Last one then. Put on the No.1 guard and trim below a line from the bottom of my ears.”

“There’s not much left.”

“That’s Ok, it’s the fade that’s important.”

“Fade? What was that again?”

“The transition of length, from 1 to 4. It draws the eye up to the top.”

“The messy bit?”

“Textured! Now check for any bits you’ve might have missed, and trim them appropriately.”

“Roger that. When do I get to do the quiff?”

“You don’t! Only I get to do that.”

“Aww! I wanted to …”

“NO! It requires scissors, er, and I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”

“Harumph! Machetes yes, but scissors? Oh no! Like I’m some kinda child.” Chris mumbled and grumbled. **Buzz, buzz.** “Ok, all done. Can I at least watch? I’ve never actually seen you do this before.”

“Hmm, alright. But don’t go talking about it. Especially to Andy. He thinks I’m high maintenance as it is.”

“He only thinks. I know.”

“Hey!”

“Joke!”

“Pass me the scissors, then hold the hand mirror in front of me.”

“Here ya go.”

“Thanks. Now, first of all, I brush the peak forward again, just to make sure it’s in line, like this.”

“Yeah.”

“Then, the trick is to cut the end like a saw tooth.” **Snip, snip.**

“Um, why?”

“That’s how I get the individual points in the quiff.”

“Those little spiky bits?”

“They’re called points Chris!”

“Jeez! Points then. Sorreee!”

“Next, I’ll apply some gel, extra firm-hold naturally, then sweep up, not back, with the comb and shape the points individually.”

“Extra, firm, hold? Sounds sorta’ pervy. Ha!”

“It lasts longer, during combat.”

“Piers, we haven’t been in combat for quite some time. The only gun I use these days has staples in it!”

“It’s all about standards Chris … plus I like the smell, cedar wood, cinnamon.”

“You’re gonna do all that now?”

“Not yet, you haven’t quite finished, and I’ll need to wash it first.”

“So what’s next then?”

“You need to shave the back of my neck. Round, not square.”

“With a razor?”

“Yeah.”

“A cut-throat razor?”

“That’s usually best. Dry shave all the fluff off first, then razor in a hard edge, about an inch up from where it is.”

“With a blade?”

“Yes, they work better that way. What’s the problem?”

“I, I don’t want to cut you.”

“You won’t!”

“Do I have to? I couldn’t bear to see your blood again. Gah!”

“Oh Chris!”

“I’m sorry Piers, I can’t do it. My hands are shaking just thinking about it.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, cross my heart. It brings back those last images, your badge, A POS … Oh dear!”

“Hey! It’s Ok Babe. Don’t cry. Leave it for now. It’s not important.”

“No, I want to do this, for you. Perhaps I could use an electric shaver instead?”

“That’s a good idea! You only need to use the trimmer blade.”

“Alright, sniff. That I can do.”

Piers saw the smile return to his partner’s face and smiled himself. He never knew what might trigger one of Chris’ episodes. But they were both getting better at recognizing the signs, and dealing with them. The lockdown was imposing some new, unexpected stresses. But under Piers’ care, Chris was more resilient these days, less fragile than of old. And so It didn’t take long for him to regain his sense of humor.

“Tilt your head forward a bit Ace. That’s it.” **Brrrzzz, brzz, brzz, brrz.** “There, all done. You did say square didn’t you?”

“Round! I said rou …”

“Ha! Gotcha!”

“Let me see.”

Chris held the hand-mirror up behind him as Piers looked in the wall mirror, craning his head this way and that to get a better look.

“That looks good, very good indeed.” Piers smiled at their reflections in the mirror. “Thanks Babe.”

“I’m glad you approve … Ooh, I missed a bit.”

“You did, where?”

“The back of your neck, hold still Ace.”

Chris brushed past Piers’ elbow again. His partner was definitely rigid now beneath his green silkies. Piers’ eyes closed in ecstasy as he enjoyed a very private fantasy.

 **Brzz.** “There, it was just a straggly bit. Do you wanna wash it now?”

“Ooh, yes please Captain …” As two heavily scarred hands landed on his shoulders, Piers came out of his daydream. “… Sorry, what did you say? Wash what?”

“Um, your hair?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Come over here then, sit in front of the sink and tilt your head back, that’s it.” Chris ran the tap. “Water not too cold?”

“No, it’s just right.”

“Let’s get you all wet first, then I’ll lather you up.”

“Ohh Baby!”

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, yeah. It’s been, um, surprisingly relaxing, the whole experience.”

“Good. You were all tense Ace, I could feel it in your neck muscles … there, let me rub it in.”

“Aahh!”

“And now rinse.” Chris ran his fingers through Piers’ hair, making sure the shampoo suds were rinsed out. “There, finished.”

“That felt wonderful Babe. Shame, it was over too soon.”

“Yeah, I was enjoying it too. Now, to towel you off.” Chris lent in close and Piers drew in the warmth and scent of his body. By now, they both knew what this was leading to.

“Oh, don’t rub it, just pat it … er, my hair I mean, pat it dry.”

 **Pat, pat.** “Why?”

“Rubbing damages it.”

“It does?”

“It makes it brittle.”

“Ha!”

“Or worse, makes split ends.”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, wouldn’t want to split your end now, would we?”

“Excuse me? Just finger it dry Bear.”

“Hah!! S,sorry! Whatever Sir desires.” Chris ran his fingers gently through Piers’ hair. “And for that final touch, may I suggest Sir has a blow dry?”

Chris opened his mouth and blew gently over Piers’ neck. Piers felt the warmth in Chris’ breath, the heat on the freshly shaved nape of his neck. He felt the stubbled lips, and the wetness of a teasing tongue. And he felt himself stiffening rapidly between his legs.

“Uh, Babe? What are you … aahh!”

“It’s beautiful, your neck. The skin’s so pale, the hair so golden, the contours flowing down into your shoulders … Mwah!”

“Chris, no hickeys!”

“Mwah, mwah.”

“You just said you didn’t want to see my blood!”

“That was different. This is love.”

“Feels more like lust to me!”

“There’s a difference? Besides, I’m not biting, just giving you a nasty suck!”

“Please! Ahh, no hick … Oh, ahhh … Chrissss …” Piers gave in.

“Mmm, I knew you were enjoying it. Mwah, mwah! Now, gimme your hands. Put them behind your back!”

“Chris? What on earth are you doing?”

“Tying them up, with the shaver cord. I want to keep you here, now, to savor this moment! Mwah. God Piers, you’re beautiful! Your skin’s so translucent, your hair’s so silky, and your neck … I never realized before. It’s driving my nuts! Mwah!”

“Shouldn’t that be me nuts?”

“We can do your’s later Ace, Grrrrr! M,mwaaahh!”

“Ufff, er, Chris, I er, I think I need … Ahh, some, OMG, attention ah, round the front …”

“Already?”

“Uh-huh. It’s been building since we started” Piers nodded, biting his lip now, fighting to maintain control.

“Then I’m already on it!” Chris feverishly unbuttoned the fly of Piers’ jeans. Piers wriggled his ass to help as Chris tugged the 501s down. Already there was a damp patch spreading on Piers’ shorts. The pre-cum turning the white cotton transparent. It immediately caught Chris’ eye, and his tongue was soon raspingover the spot.

“Oh Jeez! Ahh, you’d better be quick Babe!” Piers grunted with the effort of trying to hold back his ejaculation.

Calloused hands pulled at the waistband of Piers’ boxerjocks. “I don’t know why they call it Under Armour Ace, it never protects you!” Chris chuckled, as he tore at the cloth.

As soon as it was freed, Piers’ dick sprung to attention and Chris’ mouth closed around it just in time. The moment a searching tongue touched his glans, Piers lost any semblance of calm and control.

“Argh, gnh … fuck yeah! Ah, ahh! … Fuuucckkk!”

“Mmpff! Chris swallowed hard, and again. "Mmphh! Whoo-hoo! Both barrels!” He looked up from between Piers’ legs, licked his lips and grinned. “You been saving it up Ace?”

“Ngh, Uff! Oh Chris, that was … wow!”

“See? A haircut, _and_ something for the weekend!”

“And it’s only Saturday morning.”

“Hmm, well, since you’re here, a captive audience so to speak, how about …” Chris’ tongue flicked out and his mouth worked it’s way up Piers’ treasure trail, stopping to tease, then kiss, his navel.

“Uh … don’t stop Babe.”

Chris’ tongue and hands worked in unison, making their way higher. “How many years have I known you Piers?”

“T,ten … Ahh.”

“And that’s the first time you’ve ever let me do your hair?”

“I’m s,sorry.”

“What a waste!”

“I’m never going to a bahh … barbershop again, I p,promise.”

“Really?”

“Really. Besides, I d,don’t think I could ever look another barber in the … oh my … in the eye now, n,not after that. I’m a wreck!”

“Good! You ever let me catch you having a blow and go with some other guy and there’ll be trouble.”

“It’s w,wash and g,go Chris.”

“I know what I mean!”

“Hee, hee!”

“Mwaahh, you’re all mine Piers Nivans. High maintenance or not.”

“That’s good to k,know. Ahh … Babe?”

“Yes Ace?”

“Piers nodded downwards.”

“Already?” heavy brows raised in surprised.

Piers nodded helplessly.

“I didn’t see you reload! Good man!” Chris looked up from between Piers’ legs and grinned before he went back to work.

They didn’t rush things this second time, love won out over lust. Even Chris recognized the difference. “Mmphh … ” his’ tongue slurped noisily as he cleaned up yet again. “… I must cut your hair more often!”

“It’s a Sniper thing, but the bondage definitely helps.”

“Do want me to untie you?”

“No! For now, I’m happy to remain in your more than capable hands.”

“You sure?”

“This is your treat Babe. Later, when it’s my turn.”

“Ha! Do you mean cut my hair or have sex?”

“Both, it’ll take a couple of hours.”

“But Piers, cutting my hair only takes five minutes!”

“I know …”

“Which leaves … Ah, understood

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some Lockdown smut, but not for the Locked Down and Loaded series, which is intended for all readers, and just for fun. This tale is based in part on the experience of cutting my own hair during the current quarantine. Just the hair...not the sex. :(


End file.
